A Sea Dialogue
Poem By John Hall
MY Antinetta though thou be
More white, then fome wherewith a wave
Broke in his wrath besmears the sea;
Yet art thou harder then this cave.
Though thou be fairer then the light,
Which doubting Pilots onely mind
That they may steere there course aright,
Yet art thou lighter then the wind:
And shall I not be chang'd? when thou
Hast fraught Medorus with thy heart,
And as a-long the sands we go
To gather shells, do's take his part?
What shall not I congeal to see
Doris the Ballast of thine arms?
(Which have so oft encompass'd me)
Now pinion'd by her faithlesse charms;
What if I henceforth shall disdain
The golden tressed Doris love?
And Antinetta serve again,
And in that service constant prove?
Though mighty Neptune cannot stand
Before Medorus, and thou be
Restlesse as whirle-pool's, false as sand;
Yet will I live and die with thee,
Nay live, and lest one single death
Should wrack thee, take this life of mine,
Thou but exchanged with that breath,
Thy Antinetta's soul for thine.
How powerfull 's love! which like a flame
That sever'd, reunites more close!
Or like a broken limb in frame
That ever after firmer grows.